


A Day to Share

by EmeraldSage



Series: The Holiday Collection [25]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, Christmas Morning, Family Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Prompt Day 25: Christmas, RusAmeHoliday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9011998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: RusAme Holiday Prompt #25: ChristmasA short bit of family fluff for the holidays.  Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it!  Happy Holidays!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!!!! I hope you enjoy!

            The night before Christmas, all through the modest family house, not a creature was stirring; not even the family mouse. Tucked away in a bedroom upstairs as the night grew darker, before the streaks of indigo and darkest navy faded into pre-dawn gray, two men slumbered away. The younger, golden blond man curled into the elder’s warmth, the covers pulled over him until they almost concealed him completely. He sighed softly in the wonderful warmth his companion was giving off, nuzzling closer. The arm his companion had tossed around his waist tightened slightly, a faintly puzzled expression crossing the elder man’s face before it settled again. The chill was more familiar to the elder man, but the younger’s warmth had become familiar to him, and much more appreciated as the years went on.

            The younger shifted and shivered slightly, when the blanket slipped down his body, exposing a single, tanned shoulder to the chilled air outside the room. He shivered again, more violently, as his expression twisted, disturbed. The faintest ray of dawn peaked through the drawn curtains, and the younger man scrunched up his nose, eyelids fluttering. More light began to peak in, and with the sudden warmth on his face, the younger man sighed, blinking himself back into consciousness.

            Beautiful sky blue, that had only grown deeper and richer as they’d aged, took in the darkened bedroom, and the hint of the morning’s early light, as they dragged themselves from slumber. Half-lidded and lazy, the younger man studied the room, before turning his attention to the elder man snoozing contentedly beside him, arms wrapped firmly around him. A smile softened the sleep-worn expression, and the younger blond pressed a loving, chaste kiss to the elder’s lips, a hand reaching out from the warmth of the quilt to curl against the other’s face. The early dawn rays caught and gleamed against the soft sparkle on his ring finger.

            Well, the kiss didn’t stay chaste for long.

            He’d gone to withdraw from his brief kiss, but another hand had settled onto the back of his neck while the kiss was suddenly reciprocated from the other end. He wasn’t startled, nor was he surprised; he had almost expected the other to wake as he’d moved. The other was a startlingly light sleeper, and it had been _such_ an issue when they’d first moved in with each other. Now, though, they’d learned to accommodate each other.

            The kiss, which had turned into a slow, passionately burning balm on his heart, ended much like it had started; gentle and chaste, though it hadn’t been at all. Violet eyes blinked down at him sleepily, before they cleared and smiled. The next kiss was as chaste as the younger had intended their first to be. He laughed slightly into the kiss as the elder wrapped himself more firmly around the younger, pulling him closer.

            “Mmm,” he hummed brightly, the sleep clearing from his eyes, “good morning, Vanya.” He tucked himself neatly into the other man’s side, even as Ivan glanced down at him warmly.

            “Good morning _dorogoy_ ,” he said, his voice slightly rough and accented with sleep. Alfred smiled warmly as the other man reached over to tugged the covers back over them, and settled. “A little early for you, isn’t it?” the Russian asked his partner, curious, even with the sleep still clouding his mind. He glanced out where the rising sun was peaking through the curtains, and agreed with himself silently. His husband was not one to wake early when there was nothing he needed to do.

            “Did you forget again?” the younger asked, smile as much exasperated as it was fond, before he laughed slightly, curled closer, and said, “Merry Christmas, Vanya.” The elder’s face brightened in realization, though not embarrassment. He’d celebrated Christmas in January for so long that the one in December kept sneaking up on him. His husband was used to it though. And the others were too gleeful with being able to celebrate Christmas twice over to be annoyed with the elder’s forgetfulness. He accepted the chaste kiss that his husband bestowed upon him, though. He doubted he would ever reject them.

            “Merry Christmas, _Alik_ ,” he returned, softly, before pulling him closer again, lips brushing insistently. He felt a curl of warmth begin to form in the pit of his stomach as his husband deepened their kiss. Hmmm, it had been far too long since they’d had time for themselves. And it was too early for anyone else to be up, perhaps…he pressed closer, deepening the kiss, and receiving a soft hum of surprise from his husband. But no protests came from that quarter, only soft amusement. He smiled, his hand slipping under the fabric of the overlarge, soft shirt his husband had worn to sleep.

            “It’s been too long,” his husband said in agreement, softly, something predatory hiding in the corner of his expression as he pressed closer. His own expression curled into something more driven, the curl on his lips turning possessive and wanting instead of sleepily satisfied. He grinned when he saw the assent in the matching grin his husband sent him, the blond practically gleaming in the shafts of dawn light streaming through the curtains. He shifted, pushing the other back against the mattress, nuzzling the crook of his neck, drawing giggles from the younger as he dropped soft kisses along the long, tanned column. He pressed a deep, particularly vicious kiss to the side of the younger’s collarbone, earning a barely audible moan from his partner. He felt the hand on his face curl into his hair, and grinned.

            There was a crash and a clatter that arose such a racket from just down the hall, and the two separated, startled. A far too amused smile clung to the younger’s lips as he turned his attention away from his disgruntled partner and towards the door, behind which he could hear the rising tempo of feet pattering through the hallways. The elder man grumbled something softly, and the younger chuckled, pushing himself into a seated position, shoving the pillows back as he avoided the elder man’s insistent attempt to pull him back down.

            Just in time, too, he thought, as the door was shoved open and bounced noisily against the mattress they’d set against the wall for exactly that purpose.

            “Daddy, Papa, wake up! It’s Christmas!”

            Alfred caught one of the flying bodies that tackled him, barely avoiding a collision with the unforgiving headboard like the year before. The second body giggled, sneaking up the front footboard onto their comforter and crawling underneath it to snuggle between him and his husband. The little fidgeting body in his arms stared at him, big blue eyes wide and pleading and he huffed a laugh and resettled, the child in his arms wrapping himself tightly around him. Ivan chuckled as he plucked the second child from underneath the quilted covers and scooted up to sit against the headboard, propping the child up in his lap. Violet eyes gleamed back at him shyly, and he wondered again at how he and his husband had found two children that shared their features so definitely.

            “Daddy,” the first child whined insistently, blue eyes big and pout curling his lips, “Daddy, it’s Christmas! You can’t be in bed on Christmas!” Alfred smiled and ruffled soft bronze locks. The child scrunched his nose up, much like Alfred had done that morning upon waking, and glared at him insistently. He could feel his husband twitching to keep back his laughter beside him, and would’ve elbowed the other if it hadn’t been for the second child perched in his arms.

            “And why can’t we, Sasha?” he asked, smiling, especially when their active child balanced on his knees to try and gesture largely, wordlessly, about the importance of getting out of bed. There was a giggle from Ivan’s arms as Sasha flailed about.

            Sofia smiled in her Papa’s arms, “It’s Christmas, Daddy!” she beamed, interrupting on behalf of her little brother (“only by a month, Sofie!” “It still matters, dummy!” “Sofia! No name calling!” “Sorry, grampy Iggy!” “Good Lord, they’re exactly like _him_ ”). “We’ve got to open presents!”

            “Without any breakfast?” Ivan asked, a brow raised in question, and their raven haired daughter paused, contemplative, before nodding decisively.

            “Wait!” Sasha squawked in a manner that reminded both the parents of Alfred when he’d been younger, “I’m _hungry_ , Sofie! We can’t open presents before breakfast! Breakfast first!” And Alfred nearly broke into laughter. That was _so_ something he would say. Judging by the quirk of Ivan’s lips, he could tell the other thought so as well.

            “Are you going to make breakfast yourself then, Sasha?” Ivan asked, curious, but Sofia and Alfred both jumped in with a loud and vigorous, “NO!” before anything else could be said. Sasha pouted, but said nothing. It had been very unfortunate that out of all the people he had chosen to watch cook, he’d taken after his Grandpa Iggy whenever he wanted to do anything (even though his parents never let him anywhere near a stove, he was only six after all).

            “Let’s go and rustle something up,” Alfred beamed laughingly, pulling Sasha with him when he stood from the bed, flipping the six year old upside down and slinging him over his shoulder, much to said six year old’s glee. “We’ve got to feed our little mice before we see what Santa’s left, now don’t we?”

            “Daddy, daddy, no _fair_ ,” Sofia exclaimed, eyeing her brother enviously. She loved flying upside down, so she turned to her Papa demandingly, “Papa, _up_ please!”

            Resigned, though not unhappily, to yet another rowdy, noisy, active Christmas, Ivan obeyed his daughter’s bright demands. Childish laughter echoed throughout the hallway, and he could hear “Faster, Daddy!” echo from down the halls.

            He felt his heart warm at the sound, and even more so when his husband’s bright laughter sounded through their warm home with the children’s ringing in its tone.

            Each Christmas, he thought that he could never be more blessed than with what he had, and every Christmas that came, he was proven wrong. He spun their daughter into the kitchen, where his husband had set their son down in his booster seat on the table. The moment he put her down, though, the two of them raced out of the kitchen and into the living room. He heard something crash, and was halfway through the kitchen when he heard their laughter echoing down the hallway, relaxing him.

            “Easy,” his husband’s warm, amused voice came from besides him, and he turned to look at the man he’d married. Alfred’s smile was warm and loving, and most definitely amused, “We put away all the breakables last year, remember?”

            “Of course,” he murmured, and wrapped his arms around the younger man. He’d aged well since they’d married; they both had. It was everything and nothing at all like he’d imagined it being (it was better, every morning he woke up it became even better; it was an equation that neither could find the expression for).

            He dipped his head to slant his mouth against Alfred’s, who reciprocated just as passionate, just as lazy, just as _familiar_ as it always was. It was all it ever needed to be.

            “Ewww! Daddy and Papa are kissing in the kitchen!”

            They separated only centimeters apart this time, and he could feel the laughter that Alfred was trying to hold back, the same joy that was lighting up his eyes.

            “Do my babies need kisses, then?” he called out lightly, mischievously, and the two children squealed out in the negative, laughingly. With one last, chaste kiss, Alfred was gone, chasing the two mischief-makers into the hallways, shouting, ambushing them with hugs and kisses and making them laugh and squeal trying to get away.

            He laughed loudly to himself. _The little mischief makers_ , he thought fondly, and he wasn’t quite sure which ones he was talking about.

            It was a title his entire family shared with each other. But he wouldn’t change that for anything.


End file.
